Living Memories Beyond the Dark
The air stank here, rank with centuries old decay as water pipes had failed, seeping into every crevasse and crack as sewage drains backed up and eventually burst, leaving rotting matter open to the territory above, filling the air with a reek that not amount of washing could ever truly remove. Pulling his bandana down he spent a moment retying it as a makeshift mask around his nose and mouth to try and bloke out some of the stench as he perched himself on a rusted girder, around him other members of his clan made their way through the debris strewn streets and long silent buildings, here and there one would stop to inspect something and pocket the occasional intriguing trinket before moving on once again at the bark from their thane as he moved up in the midst of the clans members. All around great towers stood like solemn pillars for as far as the eye could see in the ever present gloom, even then he thought to himself this quiet land was darker still than normal. Glancing around him Kolas settled himself as he shook the remnants of the though from his minds eye, he was a silver wolf, they who stalked the world beyond worlds and bent it to their will by their strength, Clicking his neck Kolas broke himself from his revy as he got up once more and began to prowl forward once more, axe in one hand, knife steady in the other as he formed part of the ever steadily flowing perimeter as his clan pushed forward at the leading edge of the Iron blade. Every clan took turns at the sharp end of an advance and the Silver wolfs for being a clan dominated by rites were no less adverse to getting their hands dirty than any other cellborn out there. To the south the blood marked skirted the collapsed markets and over-ways that made up the southern edge of this new land, whilst to their north clans from another under another thaig slipped through the half shadows just as they did. A sound of crunching gravel sounded from to his left as a figure appeared from a burnt out building, they foot falls heavy in the silence. Looking round he spotted the owner of those foot steps and couldn’t help but smirk as the figure noticed him in turn and a wicked smirk split across their face. “How you became part of the silver I’ll never know Talver” Kolas chuckled as the lumbering indentured stomped over to him across the empty street, “Because wolves need teeth little rite” Talver grinned with every inflection of potential murder in his eyes reflected in the polished metal of the maul he carried on his back. True indentured were rare in the clan Kolas knew, but when one did surface or join as a child they became the Clans attack dogs and formed a loyal pack of heavily armoured and aggressive warriors at the thane’s beg and call. The old thane had crafted them into a brutal formation the clan had kept on, with the new thane retaining the same formation of well equipped and trained brutes for when the wolves famed neural abilities needed to be backed by some more mortal anger fuelled muscle. “Thought you’d have been back with the main pack than slugging it out up front with us scouts” Kolas called across as the unlikely pair began to work their way along the empty street, stopping at rusted out hulks of vehicles that lay here and there. “Boss wants us close to the edge, says something smells off and wants us to tear its throat out if it tries anything” Talver growled, Kolas nodded in agreement, you didn’t become a thane in any cellborn clan without a small dose of paranoia always playing at you “Volk says it’s the stale water from all the old pipes making the air stink” he continued on as Talver lumbered onwards, kicking the door in off a shop front whose sign that had long since faded into nothingness. “Feck Volk, bad air like this stinks of mutie blood to me” Talver quipped as he turned the shop over with an expert eye, “Good I’m not the only one reckoning on that then” Kolas nodded as he paused by the shops door, watching the rest of the street as the hulking form of Talver re-emerged into the half light, “Is why you’re the sharp eyes” Talver chuckled patting the smaller rite scout on the head as he passed by. Following close behind him Kolas fell into the steady step of his indentured clanmate, the minutes passing by in the steady snapping thud of Talver breaking down old doors and clearing building after building as they continued onwards into the darkened ruins around them. Something caught at Kolas’s eyes though as they passed their third street of dead towers and stinking shops filled with nought but rotten remains. Ahead a number of rusted vehicles had been pulled together into a wall of sorts with small fires running along the top, leaving Talver to his searching Kolas jogged down to what had once been a cargo vehicle of some sort and clambered on top of it. Pulling out a set of binoculars he had scored from another rite he looked the structure over for a minute or two until he spotted figures moving about on the wall. One of the figures was pointing and he released in his direction as he saw more figures begin to appear on the evident wall of rusted out wrecks, “Blood” he swore as he hopped down and headed back for Talver. As he did so though he could hear a commotion from ahead where Talver should have been, the snarling bass barks of his clan mate, alongside the strangely accented barks from a number of others. Letting rip with a howl into the air around him he waited for the repeat to come back as a rippling wave of his clan acknowledged his call and began to move in he knew within the next few minutes against whoever this was. Skidding to a halt at the entrance to a side alley Kolas came face to face with whoever Talver was confronting as before him the armoured form of his clan mate had a raggedly covered figure pinning to a wall with the pommel of his maul, whilst a collection of other equally bedraggled figures had Talver in turn covered by bow, spear and a couple of well worn shotguns. “Drop him” a gurgling snarl that had a surprising amount of strength behind it came from one, evidently the leader “Try it little mute” Talver growled back, teeth bared in anger. One of the figures noticed Kolas and turned to cover him with a drawn side arm “You, tell the oaf to drop our broodkin, now” it snapped in the strange accent again as it flicked back its hood, blurred features leering at him with angry eyes. “Talver, drop the sack before the angry one there pumps a round through your back” Kolas called over to him, the sound of someone meeting rockcrete sounded quickly as Talver grunted and let go of the figure. The others lowered there weapons at this and set about checking their fellow over as the one who had lowered their hood came over to Kolas. “What are you doing in our land marked one?” It asked as it looked him over, “Your land, Who are you?” Kolas locked eyes with the questioner, “We are Hindered, You walk our lands” it replied... Military Campaign Progress With every step taken forward under the banner of ascension carried by so many throughout history and by every great nation in each era that has passed, there has been the shadow of uncertainty that catches at the heels of all those that would press back against the beyond. For each action taken that would see those swept up in its motions taken to new lands and risen above those that would follow, there sits the carrion call that all may come to nought when the driving force behind the endeavour of an age is lost to the mists of doubt. From the first tribes of mankind huddled in caves there would be those that would gather the like minded and press beyond the ends of their valley to see what lay beyond and bring new life to their people, equally there would those that would follow this path and never return to the tribe that birthed them, only for the passage of time and a new era that would see these lost that became a tale become real once more as civilisations would meet and clash to reveal their origins in the uncertainty and doubt that had given way to a new style of life. This way of change and the right to challenge the misunderstood of feared or unknown and overcome the doubt of the mind would become a rite of passage for some and given birth to new civilisations and the progress of mankind would take another tentative step forward as the strength of purpose shown by the few would lay the road for the masses to follow, in turn laying their new roads and bringing with them the light of civilisation to where only darkness and the void of the unknown had once laid claim. For Humanity as a whole this constant drive to challenge that which lays just beyond its grasp became a driving instinct to always put one foot forward in the face of adversity and no matter what that step brought with it to weather the storm and see humanity ascendant once more as the veil was thrown back to reveal the next great unknown. For the various myriad of clans that make up the culture simply known as the cellborn, this constant drive forward gives birth to their famous desire to challenge any and all that would oppose them, no matter the context or reason. In what way this defiance of uncertainty shows itself is as varied as it is direct and brutally implemented as each clan in turn responds in a different way as befitting of their belief in their own strength. Amongst one another this constant doubt by other clans of their fellows place in things displays itself by a never ending sea of brawls and tests of strength to prove the dominance of one clan over another when strengths due calls for it. Indentured clash in underhung bars and vault taverns, the sound of baying crowds ringing in their ears as brute force meets brute force to the sound of clan war cries and the of smashing tables, the steely eyes of the adjudicators watching from a corner as the victor lets a roar ring from their lungs and another clan climbs the swirling ladder of dominance whilst another collects itself off of the floor and digs deep to stand shoulder to shoulder with the victor, a new bond forged in adversity borne of uncertainty and doubt. When this self borne drive is challenged by someone or something from beyond the boundaries of the CellBorn's holds in the east of the ruins, then a new kind of barely controlled rage courses through every clan that sees old rivalries put to one side as clan after clan forms ranks and roars their defiance at the doubt laid around their necks into the darkness beyond, a single soul driving the darkness back to lay the way for its fellows to follow as the Cellborn meet every threat with a single step forward and a fire borne of a certainty of purpose that few could ever hope to extinguish. The dawn of the first few days of the new season would see the Iron blade still sat nestled within its claim from the previous few months, the CellBorn's new fortress in the ruins proudly bearing its new name over the great ancient gates after being daubed on by a steady hand only a few nights before hand. The ’Cold Shield’ was already living up to its name if you asked around the assembled throngs of clan warbands, as the Thaigs sat in what once would have been the fort’s command room but now reassembled something distinctly more cellborn as the five Thaig’s banners hung from the rafters above their seats around a wide cleared floor. At the head of this the reason for the cold that had fallen over the army could easily be seen, in place of where the Hersekal should have sat with the Iron blade clasped in hand, the blade sat sheathed by the side of the raised podium awaiting the next to claim it and wield the assembled clans, sending them to war once more. The happenings of the past months still weighed evidently on the Thaigs as their regular meetings more often than not over the course of the week descended into sullen silences or bitter arguments before the ever present but silent Adjudicator stepped in and settled the thaigs once more into their cold fuming silence. By the middle of the second week this sense ill content had spread to the various more unrestrained Indentured amongst the various throngs, who set about as Indentured are want to do when they have little else to content themselves with and promptly settled the lack of action with a series of brawls that began to run the width and breadth of the fort itself. These string of bouts between various clans strongest Indentured would to some extent prove an ample distraction as the usual betting rings, taverns and tournaments began to spring up as well as they always do around any irritable Indentured settling their boredom with a punch up. The rites on the other hand had settled themselves quite happily, delving into the fort proper and getting their hands on the equipment left behind by the Hive-seccers, here and there small workshops and craft dens would crop up with the largest settling into the former main armoury as bits and pieces were carried in, disassembled, reassembled and sent out again once the accompanying Rites curiosity had been satisfied enough. Out of this by the dawn of the fifth day of the second week the fort would see a few of the portable generators hooked up to the main grid bringing more of the forts’ electrical systems back online. Accordingly constant repair teams of rites spent most of their waking hours tracking down the never ending list of overloads, blow outs and small electrical faults in the ancient outpost, but with the tight corridors, caged lumen lights and gentle hum of old dust filled ventilation vents it could almost feel like the holds in the vaults if you closed your eyes a few rites would say. This constant sense of activity of sorts would continue on for another week or so as the Iron blade accustomed itself to its new found cage of sorts, the Indentured continuing with their own entertainment as the Rites slowly but surely began to spread out from the fort itself and back into the territory proper. They would return ever few days with small packages of interesting finds that would soon be stripped apart and either added to the growing piles of random spares that always accompanied rites from clans all over on there travels, or end up in the scrap market that saw interesting finds swap hands between warbands and clans at a lighting pace as the armies notorious background workshops gave way to bidding wars and ensuing brawls amongst the rites over the choicest pieces of salvage. Come the end of the first month however this deluge of activity would be brought to a sudden halt as the Iron blades scout’s returned from their own patrols out to the borders of their latest claim. During the early hours of the final day of the month the western gate would be flung open as a returning war band from amongst the armies scouts made themselves known, quickly the warband hurried in and leaving the gate guards for that morn in some confusion the demikarl of the band headed deeper into the fort as they petitioned to speak to the assembled Thaigs. Initially foul tempered to have been raised so early the irritation soon turned to marked interest in what the scout had to say as they repeated their tail of hunting through the ruins to the west, here and there signs of the outriders that had come and gone would lead them to small finds, nothing of value until whilst in the very shadow of a great tunnel leading further west still they spied a band of strange creatures making their way into the tunnel proper. Not mutants but humanoid in shape and bedraggled in scraps of clothing this strange band had hurriedly disappeared when the scouts made themselves known, at this the demikarl had turned her band around and marched straight back to the fort to bring word to the Thaigs and the Iron blade. The following hours would see each Throng brought to order, stripping down their encampment and lodgings before assembling in the great court yard in full war plate, banners catching in the recirculated breeze before marching out to the sound of war songs on eager lips until eventually only the newly arrived garrison were left to man the fort as the Iron blade marched west, scenting potential blood on the wind. The next few days would see the dawn of the second month come and go to the sound of marching boots on the ancient debris strewn streets, each throng forming up each morning to begin the march anew as the army refollowed the path taken by the scouts. Each time they stopped warbands would peel away to search through the ruins for anything missed before returning to the army, this scene would see itself repeated until during the third day of the second week the army came into the shadow of the very tunnel the creatures had disappeared into. Camping for the night the thoughts of potential combat had the berserk indentured riled up to the point that the centre of the camp resembled a seething mass of constant clashes between rival pairs, the adjudicators of the army standing ready with blades drawn should the pent up rage get out of control, as the sound of grinders echoed all around as blades were sharpened, side arms and long rifles made ready, each warband in turn conducting their own clan traditions in preparation for the days to come ahead. Come the next morning the Thaigs would call the leaders of every clan and warband together as they each in turn renewed their oath to the Iron blade and the warband that would take the tip of the spear was chosen for the day. Pushing onwards and into the tunnel each warband would form a chain with the next as the long column pressed into the darkness and eventually out a few days march alter into the other side and into the site of a new land beyond. All around the leading clans silent towers stood sentry to one another as if a great forest of concrete and dust had sprung up. Here and there blister like buildings that had once been markets of sorts could just be made out from what the forward scouts were reporting back each evening. It would take another the army another weeks march before they could be sure but in the shade cast by a half collapsed tower the Iron blade took in what was around them, a new land ready to be claimed and settled. From what the scouts were finding and the Thaigs could see with their own eyes the territory had once been home to thousands and thousands of people before the time of the fall. Each tower was home to many homes long since abandoned and laying silent since their owners had long since perished, in some the skeletons of these owners still lay where they had fallen, whilst in others still fresher corpses of scavengers and mutants alike could be found. In one a great number of mutant corpses was discovered in the basement of one tower, the scouts wading through brackish water finding them remains heaped together as if the mutant spawn had been corralled and slaughtered from above they reported, judging by the hole in the flooring above the mound of dead. One of the thaigs posited that maybe they had come across an old hive-sec battleground as the soldier kind were well known for their hatred and expertise in killing the mutants, It sounded likely but something about the way the mutants had been killed felt off to the oldest of the thaigs. Not with explosives or automatic weapons but with simple rifle fire, arrows, spears and weapons slashes had these mutants been slain he remarked as the thaigs looked on at the sight for themselves. Maybe another thought the mysterious creatures could have something to do with it, though they themselves had yet to make an appearance she quipped with some annoyance evident. The others felt them same as the lack of anything solid was starting to chew at their patience for this endeavour, It was close to the eve of the final day of the second months third week and little beyond some simple supplies and scrap was to be shown for it. If nothing else was to be gained from this they would claim the territory and march back to the cold shield at the eclipse of the month. The final week of the second month would see the collective warbands of the Iron blade push onwards with steadily increasing annoyance until during the midst of the fourth day the leading warbands returned with rictus grins across their faces, ahead a settlement of sorts had been spotted, fire lights casting great shadows into the ruins around them. Hearing this the Thaigs couldn’t help but suppress a grin themselves, these strangers maybe fast but now they would find these creatures and have their answers. The beginning of the final month of the season would see the iron blade begin to slowly at first but then with purposeful strides spread out through the territory, each warband following their fellows until the army sat in a half crescent shape around the eastern edge of the strangers settlement, like a great pair of jaws waiting to slam closed at a moments notice. The first few days would see small bands sent forward in probes to see if they could get more of an identity on who exactly these strangers were, and each probe returned with a little more information, abit more of the puzzle to fill in the gaping void that faced the Iron blade. Come the end of the first week the Thaigs came together to talk what they had learnt through with one another and to prepare a plan of attack, the settlement itself was crudely built but clearly well established from what their probing scouts could see, each wall was built from scrap metal and rusted vehicle hulks so creating a encircling ring of iron that protected the settlement proper. Those clans with the experience had clambered to vantage points and could see the settlement was roughly split into 3 areas of sorts with some form of market in the centre and various almost shrine like structures at the centre of each. Every figure seemed to be swaddled in shredded clothes and wraps from what they could see of them the scouts had reported, weapons wise seemed to be a mixture of simpler spears, blades and bows alongside a number of older but clearly well looked after rifles and shotguns. Whoever these people were they clearly favoured a balanced approach to combat the Thaigs’ summarised, at this they decided to draw lots as to whose Throng would lead the approach and challenge this settlement to rights for the territory, and if they responded with nought but cowardice then the Iron blade would cut them from this land and take it for themselves as had been the original plan if they had found nothing. Come the morn of the fourth day of the second week the appointed throng marshalled itself under its collection of banners, clans howling into the air and the clashing of shields meeting in rhythmic timing as the cellborn made themselves known as they began to march towards the settlement in full battle order, shield walls of crudely plated clansmen supported by their long rifle wielding fellows skirmishing ahead. Coming into view of the settlement the Throng draw to a halt a single great blast from the Thaigs war horn cut through the air, a challenge to the settlement to face them. At first the only response was the sound of commotion coming from the settlement as figures appeared on the walls, followed by more gesturing at the cellborn battle lines. Thanes steadied their warriors as they all looked to the Thaig in command who held a hand, a signal to wait as the gates in the wall began to swing open and a band of misshapen bedraggled warriors came marching out in skirmish formation, the sound of a drum ringing into the air around them that matched the pace of the warriors march. For strangers the Thaig mused they weren't afraid to face a clearly larger foe, taking a step forward the Thaig barked an order and her banner men stepped up with her before they both headed down to meet these strangers. Their own show of strength demanded she meet these strangers face to face before blood be drawn if it came to it. Coming to a halt barely a few metres apart the Thaig snapped a challenge to the strange warriors and received one in kind as a warrior leaning on a spear of rusted metal stepped forward to answer, their face seemed like it was almost melted like wax with slit like nostrils and abruptly alter features. They moved and spoke like humans though she noted as she presented a warriors salute to the spear wielding stranger, the stranger stood for a moment and snapped something in an accented tongue to their warriors who responded once more in kind. “Who are you that would seek to take our Land?” The spear wielder snapped at the Thaig “We are the Iron Blade of the cellborn, Who are you to challenge us strange kind?” The Thaig snapped back, amused at the Spear wielders guile “We are Hindered Cellborn” it spoke “We are the Fel’Ra and you will leave our lands, or we will make you leave” it glared at the Thaig looking for any sign of weakness. The Thaig was for a moment wrong footed before a smirk split across her face at the Hindered’s remark “I will speak to my clans Hindered” She replied “We may not see battle with one another this day” “Then so be it” The Hindered responded before turning around and with the flick of its spear began to marshal its warriors back to its settlement. The next few days would see rapid activity amongst the Iron blade as the Thaigs came together once more to discuss what had happened in the impromptu meeting, they had a name to put to these strangers at the least, the Hindered apparently. Speaking with some of the elder members of the warbands present the Thaigs had pulled together what other information they could, the Hindered were an uncommon sight and had appeared a couple of times in Outrider reports. Martial in nature with a strong instinct and bond to their immediate ’blood kin’ apparently the hindered were scavengers and warriors of sorts from what little the Thaigs had to go on. The face to face the Thaig had had with the so guards or Fel’ra of the settlement was unheard of but within a few days would prove to be a way in of sorts as the Thaigs would discover soon enough. During the low eve of the end of the third week small bands of Hindered would begin to be seen watching the Cellborn from afar until during the midst of the final week of the month a larger band was spotted heading towards the Iron blade’s camp, they were met by a readier shield wall but this was swept aside a snarled order by the Thaigs as they came to meet the Hindered party. Consisting of roughly 6 individuals they were a grouping of Fel’ra guards and two of the settlements elders, they sullen pale skin marking them out from the rest with their wheezing voices and short snapped accents. The first true meeting between the Cellborn and the Hindered would last but a short hour as the elders and their guards were gone as quickly as they had arrived, what was spoken about was kept amongst the thaigs but a runner left the camp the next day with a message to the Council, leaving the rest of the Iron Blade to wonder what would come next... Summary: The Iron blade has advanced eastward from their previously claim last season into a fresh territory, initial investigations have identified it as a Secondus class Habitation territory but what has caught the most attention is the fact the territory is already in habited by a well established settlement of Hindered. Not quite human but not fully mutant either these strangers have an odd reputation from what little is known about them across the ruins, and now the Iron blade sits quite literally on their door step, each side watching the other with strange curiosity. For the time being it seems the Hindered are happy to let the Iron blade hold the third of the territory it has occupied whilst waiting on orders for what to do next. One shall give, one shall take… With the complete occupation of the former hive-sec outpost thanks to the deal struck in the green place by clan earl the previous season the cellborn find themselves in a strong position for defending their eastern border should the need arise, the only other routes into their territory bringing assailants within too close a range of the Hive-sec western holdings and the lands of the greed driven company. For your average cellborn now is a good time to be alive as new holds have begin to spring up in the occupied lands and new opportunists for those with the strength to seize it are following in these holds wake. Accordingly the baying is often as not filled with questions of who will claim what new land, and when will the council let the clans loose to celebrate their expansion into the darkness of the ruins. The Thanes council themselves hold queries themselves in private sessions after the baying's with the high adjudicator as they listen to the reports from the green place and those sent back by the Iron blade. The business with the mysterious gun runners catches at the ears of the shadow clans crow mother as well as the Grey-blades Warden Thane as both raise their own opinions on the matter, what both come to agreement on however with their fellow thanes is that for the moment the separatists are on the run, and with these gun runners joining the hunt with more regularity that soon the leader of the separatists cause will lay bloody and broken before them, their friends dead and the black market restored to its usual ways, whilst these gun runners will have what ever vengeance they are seeking completed and likely as not be on their way as their will dictates. Should this not be the case then they will have to see how it develops but they leave that in the hands of those closer to the matter they decide. Clan earl and their associates have made a name for themselves in these matters the High Adjudicator speaks bluntly, they can deal with the mess should it come to nought but ash. On this the Adjudicator also brings forward the situation around the lose of the Node in the green place, at this each thane in turn makes their position clear, if the Peoples wish to challenge the cellborn then let them do so. A missive is sent to the clans present in the green place to seek battle with the Peoples and reclaim the lost node, and the more peoples blood spilt in response to their actions the better the thane for the Skull-Rakes adds, a vicious grin splitting his features his scarred features. On the issue of the Iron blade and their strange meeting with the Hindered the council finds itself as equally split as there are thanes on the council with how to act, The shadow clan seek information before acting, the grey-blades wanting to test these Hindered in a clash of arms, the Skull-Rakes call for bloody battle whilst the shield-born wish to test the hindered if they would be worthy of joining the cellborn cause in some fashion. The Verve’s Thane for once stays quiet as they are ill swayed by the others comments, in the end they decide on the only true way of settling what to do, a full clan baying is issued where every clan will put the question to their clans members before the council shall enact the full will of the cellborn as shown through strength of voice. Summary: 1) A new Hersekal will need to be elected during this season, All may stand for the position with Voting to be completed by Saturday morning at 11:00am. The result is to be reported to the Adjudicator known as the Lone Soldier (Current Cellborn DPC) 2) On the matter surrounding the encounter settlement and the Hindered the council have put it to a public baying to decide the matter of course, as such all clans present must vote on what course of action they wish taken with these options being made available from the Lone solider. The result is to be completed by 11:00am Saturday morning and reported to the Lone soldier accordingly. 3) With the ongoing joint hunt of the separatist’s having revealed their dealings to a wider degree the council have agreed on the continuing the need to run to ground one of the separatists’s leaders and final bring the splinter group down for good. In this they have found the previously offered but unanswered offer from the mysterious gun runners still waiting that may be of some use, though for how much longer they don’t know. The Lone soldier may have more on this situation at the event during Friday night. Back to Downtimes